Inside, Looking out: Side Story of Tara
by Fabius Maximus
Summary: So if Kim's in jail, do all her friends cease to exist?  Not on your life.  A little story of Tara. Chapter II.
1. Chapter 1

KP: Inside, looking out: Side story of Tara.

* * *

_Authors note: What is a side story? The term is generally (at least as far as I can tell) of Japanese origin, describing a story that takes place in the same universe, but isn't directly related to the main story or the main characters. So, while Kim is in Jail, here we have a Side Story of some of Tara King's little adventures….

* * *

_

There were good days, Tara thought. And there were bad days. This, Tara considered, was one of the bad days, as she held her personal 9mm sidearm, and tried to figure out what exactly was going on.

"Every Marine a rifleman" Captain Tara King muttered, except in her case she'd spent most of her time leaning how to coax the best performance out of her fighter, and beyond the required qualifications hadn't done much with anything smaller.

Besides, anything that really needed to be said should be said in the appropriate matter—2,000 pound GPS guided bombs were generally what Tara found to be appropriate. Not some popgun on a base in the ass end of nowhere. Her fighter was nearly a thousand miles away, and it wasn't even a _marine_ base, just some NGO with Marine guards.

Well, she'd joined the Corps to challenge herself… Tara ducked as a mortar round whistled in to destroy the latrine shed. Yes sir, she was feeling challenged right now.

* * *

_Tara__ walked down the thick overgrown hill. Her hands were white on her M-16 and her newly cut hair felt strange even after four weeks. Of course what felt even stranger was the fact that she somehow was surviving days without sleep, nights without sleep… and evil DI's who seemed to exist to make Tara King cry. Some of the women hadn't been able to cut it, but she wasn't going to quit. Bonnie and Kim wouldn't have quit (granted Bonnie had suggested Tara get psychiatric help when she said what she was going to do, and Kim… wasn't around). _

_But what bothered her was that this place looked like… Wannaweep. It brought back bad Gill memories, the glaring red eyes, and the skin, the feel of the slime against her skin. She shuddered. Unfortunately, she'd made the mistake of mentioning how she didn't like the woods, and the Sergeant Shelby had heard…and since Marines did not get scared of little dark woods, guess who had been ordered to go down to the CP to tell them that the recruits were bedded in. _

_Yep. Her. Alone. Tara shivered. _

_OK… there was nothing- there was a sudden sound like something had run behind her. She remembered Ron saying how Gill could do the predator camouflage thing and gulped. _

_Maybe she should…_

_Go back up to the DI? Oh no. But there was something she could do. They didn't give recruits any live ammunition, but they did… Tara knelt down, unshipped her M-16 rifle and attached the bayonet, looking at the gleaming, razor sharp knife in appreciation. Then, she stood up again, holding the rifle, bayonet fixed, and continued down the path._

_Gill probably wasn't here…. But if he **was**… Well, she was ready.

* * *

_

Tara tried to peer out, but the storm that had isolated the medical base was kicking up the dust and you couldn't see a damned _thing_, unless you had tac goggles on, and well, pilots didn't need them. She pulled back behind the sand bags of the trench, not wanting to give a bad guy _with_ tac goggles and a sniper rifle an easy target. She heard a sound behind her and spun around.

"Marine!" The voice shouted, as her crew chief, Master Sergeant James McTaggart dove into the trench behind her, holding on to his Desert Eagle.

"Sergeant." Tara said, "That gun _again?"_

"Hey—this is a very good gun." McTaggart said, "I should know, since Saddam was the one who paid for it." Tara grinned. Officially, looting was illegal, but when McTaggart had been the first into Saddam's private gun room in Baghdad, well…he couldn't resist taking one particular piece. It _did_ look more impressive then her little 9mm.

"Here." He said, and handed her a flak vest. Tara nodded and put it on, noting that James had also managed to score a few hand grenades. Those he didn't give her, not that Tara minded. On the ground, James knew vastly more about how to fight than she did, so he was the one to carry the grenades. Fifty years old, he'd been in the Corps since he was 16, although he hadn't told the recruiter that little detail.

"What's the situation?" Tara asked. "I was just finishing up the shower when…"

"Yeah… Ma'am, it looks like they took advantage of the storm to get in close and set up mortars. They hit the motor pool, and the helicopter pad in the first barrage…but now it's mostly harassing fire."

"Wonderful." Tara muttered.

"Ma'am?"

"I bet they want all the _wonderful_ drugs in here." She said. James nodded.

"Stands to reason—they could have done a lot more damage."

"Any head count?"

"Four marine guards down, injured, and Major Wilkin was hit pretty bad." James paused, "The doctor has him in the surgery right now, but… he's not gonna be able to take command." Tara got a sudden, very cold sensation.

"Then who _is_ in command?"

"I think you are, captain."

"Oh wonderful." Tara said, and then ducked as another whistle announced some more incoming mortar shells. "When can we expect Evac?"

"that's another problem… not for a while, and well…. Your friend isn't being overly helpful…"

"Great." Tara growled. "I'd better talk to her." She said, and crouching, keeping to the cover of the trench (which wouldn't help at _all_ if someone dropped a round on top of them, a little voice said), headed for the half buried medical center.

The NGO's had quickly learned that they were seen as defenseless targets by terrorists and bandits alike, and with a great deal of reluctance had accepted military guards. Civilian guards may have made more sense, but after some of the missteps in Iraq, most host governments preferred soldiers who answered to a national government. Tara could see the point….

…except that right now it had her about two thousand miles from where she wanted to be.

OK, 2500 miles…there was that _very_ well built Australian special forces officer she'd met and…. She shook her head. Time for wool gathering later.

The medical center had been properly bunkered and fortified—about as good as sandbags, wood and brick could do, so it was immune to anything but a direct hit—and Tara was safely certain the attackers didn't want to wreck what was in there, either physical or human. James waited outside as she entered the room, moving right through the empty foyer stacked with medical equipment into the surgical room.

"This is a sterile area! Get a mask on!" A voice barked, as Tara looked over at a white suited figure, red hair surmounting a pair of blue eyes that didn't even flicker from the work in front of her.

_Oh yeah. My very first ground combat and I have to be babysitting Dr. Ms. Possible. _

_Wonderful. _

TBC.


	2. Chapter 2

Tactical Considerations

* * *

Tara grabbed a mask and held it to her face as she walked into the sterile area. There was the major, with a hell of a lot of blood.

"How is he?"

"He'd be better if people weren't distracting me." Tara didn't flinch.

"Doctor, will he be conscious anytime soon?"

"I don't know if he'll be _alive_." The surgeon said. "Stop bothering me." Tara shook her head.

"Sorry—you need to get him, and everyone else prepped for evac, ASAP." There was a moment of silence, and then Dr. Possible took a second to glare at Tara, her hands continuing their skilled work.

"_Captain, _the major has serious injuries including a lacerated aorta. I'm not a heart surgeon, I'm a brain surgeon, and that means it's going to take me more time—even if he would survive, trying to move him too quickly would kill him—not might, would."

"I understand," Tara said, "But if we get overrun, we may not have a choice—the enemy won't wait once they see choppers landing, and…" She paused, "The protection of the civilians is our objective. The Major wouldn't like it if you were endangered for his sake."

_Nor would Kim._Tara had been acquainted with the nasty habits of those who had never heard of the laws of war, and the POW training had been fairly clear on that point—women would be raped, not might, would be, if they were captured by groups like the ones that haunted the region. That was part of the risks you took.

But it was not part of the risks Kim's mom was supposed to take, and once again, Tara wondered at the idiocy of sticking a medical facility at "Buttpimple, Grid Six" as just about every marine referred to the location.

Unfortunately, Kim was part of the problem here as well. Dr. Possible didn't like government types, of any shape or form. Neither did her husband, which was why he'd quit the space center just about the same day Kim was sentenced.

Which added to her joy, because technically, Tara couldn't give _orders_ to Dr. Possible, or anyone else at the NGO. She and the other marines were there to provide support and advice.

"If we have to evacuate, you and the staff, and the patients, are the only thing that's going on those helicopters." Tara said, "We won't have time to move the medical gear."

"_What?_" The hiss of outrage was the only sign the doctor had been affected by her statement, as her hands continued working, the nurse helping her supervisor.

"We are _not_ the USMC, and if this equipment is destroyed, I don't think the IRC can afford to replace it. We can't le-"

"Can and will, because if you don't, and it endangers _anyone_ I'll have the marines on the chopper throw it overboard." Tara paused. "The equipment _can_ be replaced, even it is hard—lives can't be."

"Very well." The voice was frigid. Tara remembered when Dr. Possible had been far happier to see her. "If there's nothing else, I have some more work to do." Tara nodded, and backed out the door.

* * *

"Here." James said to her as she turned, and shoved a rifle into her arms. "AK-74—one of the patients had it when they brought him in…figured it'd do you a little better than a pistol."

"Thanks." Tara said, taking the weapon, and checking it. Thank God for famialization courses. "Any movement?"

"Nothing." She frowned at that. If they were lobbing mortar shells in, they should have attacked while things were confused…

"Could be they're just ringing our bells…" The sergeant replied to her unspoken thought.

"That'd be nice—care to bet on it?"

"Don' get paid enough to lose money like that, Ma'am." James said. "I've got the injured marines close into the medical building—the rest are on the perimeter." Tara nodded. They'd had sixteen, not counting her, James and the Major, which meant they now had twelve on the line… She laughed.

"Sixteen privates and corporals, one sergeant, one captain and one major…" She paused, "I don't know, Sergeant, do you _think_ we have enough officers?"

"Oh, not at all, but we'll muddle through somehow…" Tara and the Sergeant shared an acid smile. They had a captain and a major, but it would have been _very_ nice if said captain and major had come with the ground combat elements that they would usually merit. Even one company of Marines could make Tara's life much easier—not the least in which they'd have enough soldiers to go looking for their tormenters.

And if wishes were soldiers, why not ask for the entire United States Military while she was at it? Tara shook her head.

"So, how many?" she asked her sergeant. James had been around a lot longer than she had, and he'd done more ground fighting…

_You mean he's had more experience in real fights. Not firing on crowds of panicked people._ She thought with the rush of bile that always accompanied the memory.

"No way to tell. AT least three mortars, so figure six people per tube... 18, people just for their heavy weapons." The sergeant shook his head. "I'd figure, better than forty, at the very _least."_

"Wonderful."

"Well, at least you have one advantage-- that gun is in pretty good shape, and it evenhas a good bayonet." The sergeant continued, breaking Tara out of her chain of thought.

"It does?"

"Better than an M-16." He said, with a suspicious twinkle.

_He **knows?

* * *

**_

_Tara was halfway down the hill, her bayoneted rifle in her hands. Just like they'd told her to hold it. She was moving slower than she should, but every damned sound could be Gill, sneaking up on her, to attack her. She hated that feeling when she'd been helpless. Ron had saved them all…but she had hated the terror that had risen in her heart. _

_That wasn't going to happen aga- There was the sound of footfalls behind he, heavy, and then- _

_Tara spun around and with a cry that would have done her DI proud, stabbed the bayonet forward. _

_There was a "schunk" sound as it stabbed into the soft wood of a tree, the figure having dodged, and Tara cursed as she tried to pull it out._

_"Recruit…what the **HELL** are you doing?" The bellowed voice from the figure brought Tara's eyes up._

_Oh God. The DI would certainly be proud of her cry, being that he'd just heard it. _

_Because her DI was the person she'd just tried to run through with the bayonet. _

_"Recruit… I think you, I, and the captain are going to have a little…chat." A pause, "Now pull that thing out of the tree, and doubletime it to the captain's tent!" Tara had only one thought._

_I just tried to kill the DI…._

TBC.


End file.
